maybe you're just perfect in my arms
by livelyfingered
Summary: Because he's afraid that if he lets go, she'll disappear forever. / In which Austin contemplates the meaning of waist hugs. AustinAlly. Drabble, nonlinear. For Sophie.


**maybe you're just perfect in my arms**

Because he's afraid that if he lets go, she'll disappear forever. / In which Austin contemplates the meaning of waist hugs. AustinAlly. Drabble, nonlinear. For Sophie.

**A/N: You could consider this a prompt – "waist hugs" – from Sophie (a cold day in december) but I like to think of it as more of a tribute. She's arguably one of the best writers I've ever seen on fanfiction, and the title of this fic (as you probably know already, haha) takes direct inspiration from her beautiful story titles. But regardless of the premise, Sophie's wonderful and she deserves a tribute.**

**Also, many thanks to Sarah and her late-night editorial messages – she gives me amazing advice and snorts ceaselessly at the corny romance jokes embedded in all my stories.**

**Enjoy!**

The first time she hugs him, he sort of—maybe—freaks out. He's fifteen. It's not the first time he feels giddily sick to the stomach, but he's pretty sure it won't be the last. So he gives her a reserved smile and laughs with the learned air of a musician.

He learns to ignore it. After all, Austin Moon doesn't get nervous.

:::

"How are you feeling?"

It's a simple question, honestly. Half of him wants to tell her how he _really_ feels, but he's sick and so he really doesn't want to scare her away with an incoherent profession of undying love.

"Better," he croaks.

His throat acts up again when she smiles. "I'm glad," she says, and he doesn't want to sound pathetic, but he's glad, too. She's standing next to his bed, so he reaches up and gives her an awkward one-armed hug around her waist. (For once, he's the short one.)

She just laughs and hugs him back.

:::

"Thanks a lot, Austin," she snarls. "Now _I'm_ sick."

He really doesn't know why she's angry, so he decides to tease her a little. He leans in until his face is inches from hers and laughs softly when he notices how large her eyes have become. His attention flickers away from her eyes, and he breathes gently against her earlobes instead.

He has _no_ idea what he's doing, but she isn't stopping him.

He opens his mouth, theoretically to whisper sweet nothings, but instead finds himself mumbling, "Is it _that_ time of the month again?"

She snaps out of her trance and groans in frustration. "You—you're so _annoying_!"

He pulls away and grins innocently at her. "I'll take that as a yes. But don't worry, Ally," he says as he puffs up his chest and flexes his muscles playfully, "_I'll_ save you!"

"Shut up, Superman."

He laughs good-naturedly and kisses her forehead, and before she can protest, he's out the door (to buy ice cream for her, she'll later discover). She's surprised, but she can't deny that she's happily surprised.

He went _way_ beyond waist hugging.

:::

"I'll miss you," he chokes out, but she just giggles.

"Austin, I'll only be gone for the weekend."

"I want a hug," he says. He feels like a loser, and he mentally berates himself for crying in front of the girl he's supposed to impress. After all, he _is_ her Superman.

But he holds out his arms anyway, because he'd never pass up a hug. Yeah, it's a waist hug, but by now he's forgotten about maintaining the platonic aspect of their friendship.

He just wants to hold her forever—because that's the only way he can guarantee that he'll _be_ with her forever. He doesn't care that he's thinking in clichés, because he's falling for his best friend. You can't get more cliché than that.

:::

"Austin?"

It's timid, uncertain—almost fearful. She's fragile, she's scared, she's lost—all because of him—and his heart threatens to shred itself into a million pieces.

"Yeah," he breathes, and he doesn't want to speak too loudly, because he's afraid his voice will fail him. "I'm here." _I'm here for you _are unspoken words for now.

"Can you hug me?" _I missed you_.

He lets her collapse into his arms, and he just holds her. It's a waist hug, but that's not the point. Finally, he's her _Superman_.

:::

"Hey, Ally."

She relishes in the lazy smoothness of his voice. "Uh-huh," she responds absentmindedly, but she's still caught up in her thoughts.

He smirks and weaves his arms around her, but she barely notices.

"I love you," he whispers dramatically, and he nuzzles the back of her neck.

She leaps up in shock, instinctively pushing him away from her, but freezes when he erupts into raucous laughter. "You're mean," she hisses, and deep down she's actually breaking from the pressure. She doesn't want to keep this love purely platonic.

"I know, I know," he says, "but you love me anyway."

She learns to ignore it. After all, Ally Dawson doesn't give up easily.

:::

She's upset again, and he can tell. (She sent the cymbals to the dry cleaners after she ran out of dishwashing soap.)

"Take a break," he urges. "Relax."

She draws a tortured sigh and flops down on the piano bench.

"I'm just so _unsatisfied_," she groans. "I feel like my life is _incomplete_ somehow—there's something _missing_—you know? I'm eighteen—" she lets out a dry laugh, "—and I still don't know what I'm going to _do_ with my life." She pushes herself off the piano bench and back onto her feet.

"You could keep writing songs for me." He glances at her hopefully.

"Well, _yeah_," she says, "of course. But—what if we don't make it? What if you're just dropped by the label? I don't really want to write for anyone but you."

"Ally," he sighs, "we'll just have to hope for the best. Sometimes you can't control your life."

"Yeah," she mumbles, "life just drags you along, doesn't it?"

:::

"It was true."

He's fidgeting and he can't bring himself to look at her. Confused, she quirks an eyebrow at him, and his sweat glands go into overdrive. _Oh, no_.

"Huh?"

"It was true, Ally. I _do _love you."

And he stops. There's no point in going on. He's just torn through the thin film between platonic and romantic love, and he has no idea if there's anything on the other side.

But she understands. "I thought you'd never say that, _Superman_."

And then she's hugging him and he's beyond elated, and finally he understands. His arms wrap securely around her waist, and she seems to melt perfectly against his frame.

Maybe she's just perfect in his arms.

**I hope you enjoyed this. Please consider leaving a little note if you have any comments for me. I'm a feedback junkie, haha. Peace out!**


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